


Come Back to Me

by the_genderman



Series: My 2018 MCU Kink Bingo Fics [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, Explicit Consent, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, POV Alternating, Skin Hunger, Touch-Starved Bucky, Touching, non-explicit standard past bucky trauma, soft and happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Set in the same 'verse as, running concurrently with, "From Someone Who Wants to Be Loved By You."





	Come Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

> In case it's unclear, each section is a change in POV. Starts with Steve, goes to Bucky, and alternates. I tried to do fonts, but HTML is a foreign language to me and it did not work.
> 
> Edit: To anyone who read this immediately after posting, sorry, I managed to lose an entire section of Steve's POV. Should be fixed now.

Steve knew from the start that things were going to be difficult; how could they _not_ be, with everything Bucky’s been through? And he’s trying not to take it personally. He knows it’s not personal. He knows Bucky has to heal at his own pace, he knows the therapy is the right decision, but sometimes the bubble of selfishness swells up inside him until all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Bucky, hold him tight, and swear on everything he holds sacred that he’ll never let anyone hurt him again. 

But then he’ll stop, breathe, and let that feeling dissipate. That’s not what Bucky needs. It won’t help him, and even if it could, he’d never let anyone, even Steve, have that much control over him ever again. He _knows_ Bucky has to heal on his own terms, but sometimes Steve just feels so powerless, having to sit back and see him still hurting. Steve _does_ things. There’s a problem, he finds a solution. He goes and does something to fix it, and waiting, as important as it might be, doesn’t feel enough like doing.

But if Bucky needs him, he’ll be there. If he needs his space, he’ll give him that. If he needs to find everyone who’s ever hurt him and make sure they’ll never hurt anyone else ever again, he’ll help him with that. However long it takes, he’ll be there, whatever he needs.

\-----------------

There are things Bucky hasn’t remembered. He knows there are probably a lot of things that’ll never come back, no matter how long he lives. Some of the blank memories he won’t miss too badly if they don’t come back, others offer a more visceral emptiness, knowing that there should be _something_ there.

And there are so many holes surrounding Steve that it’s almost painful to be near him, knowing that there are important things he can’t remember.

Bucky knows the pain won’t last forever. With time, with his therapy, he’ll become more comfortable around Steve. He has to. He knows there used to be so much more between them, he feels it in the absences. Despite the pain, there’s something that pulls him to Steve, like iron to a magnet. He’s grateful to Steve for offering his home to him, and maybe he ought to find a place of his own, somewhere he doesn’t have to inflict his slow and messy recovery on his friend, but he doesn’t want to fight the pull. He wants to stay here with Steve, even through the pain of forgotten memories. Whatever he’s not remembering, it’s affecting Steve, too, but right now, he’s not in a place to be able to see exactly _how_ , beyond a feeling of unease.

Given time, he’ll figure out what it is. If he has the time, he’ll figure out what it is.

\--------------------

Bucky still doesn’t talk much, still flinches away from most touches, but Steve tries not to let it bother him. It’s Bucky’s recovery, Bucky’s timeline. He wants Bucky back, but he knows he can’t rush him. He’s already doing so much better; Steve’s just glad he’s been given the opportunity to be part of it. He knows there are days Bucky can’t be near him, can’t stand to see him, but still Bucky remains. He could choose to move out, get a place of his own where he doesn’t have to face Steve every day, but still he chooses to remain. Even on the days when he closes himself away and avoids Steve, he still chooses to remain.

Steve knows Bucky’s recovery will take time. He knows there’s a chance he’ll never remember everything they had together, but as long as Bucky is willing to have him as his friend, Steve will be there. It’s not a concession. Just because they once had more, doesn’t mean their friendship now is any less for it.

\--------------------

He’s got a feeling. He’s got no proof, nothing solid, just a feeling. It’s taken him far too long to remember even this scrap of a hint of a memory, but rooted deeply within him and growing again after decades of drought, Bucky has a _feeling_. He knows that he and Steve had been good friends. He knows they had been close, or else why would HYDRA have spent so much effort in burning Steve out of his brain? But what if they’d been _more_ than simply friends?

They’d been living together again for a while now. Steve had never pressured him, never asked him for more than friendship. He’d opened his bed to Bucky platonically, an offer of comfort and closeness if he needed it, but had never once even insinuated that he expected any more. If they had once been lovers, would that explain the flashes of suppressed frustration and sadness he would sometimes pick up from Steve? That Steve knew what had been lost? That Steve knew and had chosen to let Bucky remember at his own pace, knowing the uncertainty of the memories ever returning?

Was that something Steve still wanted from him, as changed as he was? 

Or was Steve quietly mourning the loss of the lover he could never have again?

He’d never know unless he asked, but how could he?

\----------------------

He knows that feeling even before he’s fully awake. Bucky’s watching him again.

“The invitation still stands,” Steve says sleepily. He reaches out to pat the empty spot next to him in the bed.

“I know,” Bucky replies, not moving from his spot in the doorway. “But I have to ask you something.”

Something in Bucky’s voice catches Steve a little off guard. He pushes the blankets back, switches the light on, and sits up, suddenly alert. Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, staring at Steve, his arms crossed defensively in front of his abdomen. He’s got a blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders but underneath it, Steve can tell he’s only wearing his underwear and the sleeve and glove that keep his metal arm from touching his skin directly. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Steve asks. Given how distant Bucky’s been lately, part of him doesn’t want to know the answer, but he pushes forward anyway. If Bucky wants to tell him, he wants to hear it.

“Did we… were we…?” Bucky begins, and Steve can hear his hesitation, how he’s fighting to force the words out. “Back before. Were we… lovers?” Bucky finally manages.

“Yes,” Steve nods. “Do you remember?” he asks, hopeful, eager, almost excited.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Bucky says, something tinging his voice that Steve can’t quite place.

Bucky’s silent for a few more moments, lips tightly pursed, forehead creased. He shakes his head and wheels around, blanket billowing out behind him. Steve hears a quiet “Sorry” trailing after him, then Bucky’s door clicks closed. 

Steve turns off the light and lays back down, mind racing. He shouldn’t have been so blunt. Bucky was clearly nervous, and he just bowled him over with that yes, too eager to recognize the signs to move slowly, to reassure his friend that he was just answering his question and not expecting them to immediately go back to what they had once had. He knew how fragile the frayed and mended memory that Bucky had offered him was, and still he grasped it like a drowning man, like it could support his whole weight all at once. All he could do now was wait for Bucky to be able to stitch it back together and then try not to break his trust again.

\----------------------

Bucky shuts his door behind him and flops face-first down onto his bed. Why did he do that? Why did he bolt like a fucking scared rabbit? Nothing even _happened_. He asked Steve if they’d been together, Steve said yes, and something in him shattered. The holes surrounding Steve had been filled, but with that one small yes, everything had come undone. _Why_ they had worked so hard to take Steve from him. But they were gone, and Steve was here. The only one taking Steve away from him now was himself.

That yes could mean anything. Steve’s voice had been calm but eager. Like he’d expected this question from him. That yes could mean anything. And Bucky hadn’t stayed to find out what it meant, good or bad. He should know. If it was merely an acknowledgement of the past, he should know. If it was a promise for the future, he should know. 

And the only way to know for sure was go to back to Steve and ask. Bucky clenches both fists and pushes them hard into the mattress, raising himself up from the bed. The blanket slips off his shoulders as he rises, but he barely notices it. He has to go back. He swings his legs over the side of his bed and dangles his hands loosely between his knees, staring down unfocused at them. He has to go back.

He’s not sure how much time passes before he finds himself on his feet again, almost sleepwalking towards Steve’s door again. He’s aware of his feet leading him to Steve’s threshold, but he doesn’t think he could stop them even if he wanted to.

And then Bucky’s back at Steve’s door. He reaches out hesitantly and taps on the doorframe, a dull, swallowed noise.

Steve is up again in a flash, sitting upright in his bed. He’s left the light off this time, whether because he doesn’t expect Bucky to stay, or because he doesn’t want to startle him, Bucky’s not sure.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Of course,” Steve replies. 

His voice is soft and a little tentative, and it breaks Bucky’s heart a little to hear it. He’s done this to Steve, made him second guess his kindness, if this is what he gets in return.

“Should I turn the light on?” Steve asks with the same softness, but less tentative. Bucky realizes he’s still standing in the doorway.

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky says, shaking his head and uprooting himself from his spot. He crosses to the empty half of the bed and slips under the blankets. He scoots closer to Steve, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, but not touching him. “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s a lot to take in all at once, yeah?” Steve replies, settling back down onto his side, facing Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, exhaling heavily. “Do you still… want that from me? Because I don’t know what I can give you anymore. I know I’m still not right in the head, and that’s got a lot to do with what the rest of me can or can’t do.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve says and his voice is gentle, warm like the blankets over both of them. “I love you. I want you, but you don’t have to give me anything you can’t or don’t want to. If you want to keep doing what we’re doing now and just put a title on it, that’s fine. If you want to try to work up to more, let me know what you want, and I’ll work with you to get it.”

“I want you to touch me,” Bucky says.

“Like we’ve been doing?” Steve asks, reaching a hand out from under the blanket, waiting for Bucky’s signal before he touches him.

“And more,” Bucky replies, closing his eyes as Steve’s fingers brush against his cheek.

“How much more?” Steve asks slowly.

“Nothing that could count as sex yet,” Bucky says. “Just… petting, I guess? I just want you to touch me.”

“Anything you want,” Steve replies, fingers moving from Bucky’s cheek to the curve of his jaw. 

His touch is so light, so gentle that Bucky still almost can’t believe it, like if he stops thinking about it, it’ll dissipate like smoke. During the daytime, in public, touch is different. Touching hands. Accidental bumps and brushes. Contact when joking around and brief friendly touches when Steve forgets to ask first. Normal, everyday contact. Not _rough_ , certainly not unpleasant, but not this, either. This is different. This is private, for the two of them alone. This is the touch of a _lover_. Maybe they’ve always been lovers, even when he couldn’t remember. Maybe ‘lovers’ isn’t so much a title, but a state of being. 

Steve’s hand pulls back, the look on his face expectant. Bucky nods and smiles, letting him know he was good, then rolls over and scoots closer to Steve, pressing his back up against him. He feels the slight fuzziness of Steve’s pajamas against his skin, feels the warmth of Steve’s body. His skin prickles with the sensation, with the anticipation. He doesn’t pull away. He wants this. 

Steve wraps his arm around Bucky, hand on his chest, pulling him even closer. This touch is firm, electric, and even more intimate than anything else they have done this century. A wave of unnamable sensations crash over him, telling him only that he missed this, that he needed this, that he _needs_ this, just to be held skin-against-skin by Steve. He places his flesh hand over Steve’s and squeezes. Then, a moment later, he grabs Steve’s sleeve with his other hand and pulls it up, exposing more skin for him to touch. He wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist, rubbing his thumb over his forearm, feeling his pulse.

“I’ve read about something called touch hunger, a sort of need for skin contact. Do you think that’s what this is? Do you want me to take my shirt off?” Steve asks.

“ _Please_ ,” Bucky replies, unable to articulate more than this one word as he tries to take in and make sense of these feelings he didn’t know had a name and that he didn’t know he needed so badly. All those years without any human contact. All those years where touch only meant pain and humiliation and indifference, where he was treated as nothing more than an object, to be dehumanized, to be used and kept and maintained like a machine. And now? To know that he could _want_ touch, could _need_ touch, and that all he had to do was ask and Steve would provide?

The weight of Steve’s arm lifts off of him and Bucky tries not to whine at the loss. A shuffling noise, the shifting of the mattress, a coldness at his back where the blankets have been pulled back as Steve sat up, and then Steve is there again. An almost unbearable warmth that he needs so badly as Steve presses his bare chest to his back and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close.

“How’s this?” Steve asks, stroking his hand over Bucky’s right shoulder, collarbone, and bicep where it isn’t pressed into the mattress. His other hand makes its way to the back of Bucky’s head, fingers skating up the nape of his neck and combing through his hair.

Bucky bows his head and sighs.

“Good?” Steve asks.

“Good,” Bucky replies. “Can we... can we stay like this? Until morning?”

“Of course. As long as you want.”

“Thank you.”

\------------------------

Steve smiles and pulls Bucky closer to him, feeling him relax, feeling their breathing begin to synchronize. He’d hoped this day would come. He didn’t want to wait for it, knowing, fearing, it might never arrive, but deep within him, he’d always hoped it would come. Bucky’s remembered. He wants to start again. It’ll take time and effort between the two of them, but they’ll make it work.

However long it takes.


End file.
